


stardust

by optimusfine



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Chicago Blackhawks, Community: au_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimusfine/pseuds/optimusfine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>He could pass it off as an accident, even, because they share the same console, practically, and Corey's always touching him anyway, trailing his fingers over Chris' knuckles or pressing his foot to the back of Chris' calf before glancing up with that adorable blush streaked across his face like watercolor paint, an apologetic smile quirking the corner of his mouth up slightly.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	stardust

**Author's Note:**

> star trek!au, with chekov!corey and pining!sulu!chris. title lovingly stolen from "boats and birds" by gregory & the hawk.

It would be so easy, Chris knows, to just reach out and brush their hands together. He could pass it off as an accident, even, because they share the same console, practically, and Corey's always touching him anyway, trailing his fingers over Chris' knuckles or pressing his foot to the back of Chris' calf before glancing up with that adorable blush streaked across his face like watercolor paint, an apologetic smile quirking the corner of his mouth up slightly.

Chris narrows his eyes in concentration, casting a quick look around the bridge to make sure no one's paying attention to them -- no one is, of course; Sharpie is busy staring at his screen with more concentration than Chris thinks the Romulan language deserves (then again, he's not a linguist), and Seabs is having a conversation with Duncs about something that isn't strictly medical, judging by the look in Duncs' eyes -- before he glances down at his fingers, which are inching closer to the pale hand resting on the edge of the console. Corey is biting his bottom lip while his fingers fly over the screen, and Chris has to pause for a second, thinking about what it would be like for _him_ to bite that bottom lip, if those delicate fingers were flying over him instead of that screen...

"Hello, crew!" Chris jumps what feels like ten feet in the air when he hears his captain, spinning in his chair so fast it almost makes him dizzy. Out of his peripheral vision, he can see Corey retract his hand, glancing at Chris with something that looks vaguely like disappointment in his eyes, and what the hell does that mean?

The next second, he can actually see his captain, all bright eyed and practically bouncing when he comes through the elevator onto the bridge, Tazer following him silently, to no one's surprise. Kaner sprawls himself in the captain's chair gracelessly with a laugh, Tazer raising an eyebrow at him before Kaner nods, and Tazer goes and sits down in his seat in the corner of the bridge.

Chris would be weirded out by their silent communication if he wasn't so fucking pissed they completely ruined his plan for the day.

\--

"Hey, Chris?" Chris makes a noncommittal sound, turning onto his side when he sees his new roommate's head flip over the side of the bed, hair hanging down over Corey's face in a way that makes Chris want to smile, even though all he _really_ wants to do is go to sleep because fencing training from earlier has worn him out.

"I'm really glad I'm rooming with you."

Corey smiles softly, almost sheepishly, and even though Chris can barely see it in the dim light of their room, his stomach does a weird flip, and he blinks, confused.

That's new.

"Yeah. Me too."

\--

Chris is not nearly as startled as he should be by the two bodies that set themselves down on either side of him, one arm slinging over his shoulders and the other curling around his waist where he's sitting at a table in the mess hall by himself, because Corey's off doing something that doesn't involve him.

"You should just tell him, you know."

Duncs' breath is way closer to his ear than Chris feels comfortable with, but he doesn't react besides looking up with raised eyebrows and slowly putting his sandwich back down on his tray.

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb, Campoli," Seabs accuses him, before leaning over and taking a big enough bite out of his sandwich that Chris almost whines in protest.

"I'm not playing anything, Seabrook."

Brent raises an eyebrow, and Chris swallows nervously because right, this is the man who sticks giant hypo-needles into him whenever Seabs feels like it, and it's probably best not to antagonize him.

\--

“I’m Corey. Crawford. Corey Crawford.”

The boy -- man? He is 26, after all, but he looks like a teenager and that doesn’t sit very well with Chris, really -- sticks out his hand, the yellow shirt almost too small on him, because the prominent curve of his wrist bone peeks out from under the cuff.

“Chris Campoli. Nice to meet you.”

Some kind of electric shock goes through Chris when he grasps Corey’s hand to shake it, almost like that one time he was messing around with that broken transporter and touched the wrong wire -- he’d been in the hospital for nearly a week after that one -- except this doesn’t hurt -- it feels rather nice, actually -- and Chris stares down at his hand with wide eyes after Corey lets go.

\--

Of course Chris gets stuck with Corey. Of fucking course he gets stuck with Corey, because they're best friends, right? Joined at the hip, those two.

Except Corey is sucking and nipping at Chris' neck like he's a vampire, and one of his hands is curling over Chris' hip, and this is really bad. Some sort of pollen has infected Corey and a few others of the crew and made them "really fucking horny," according to his captain, eloquent as ever.

But Kaner's under a lot of stress right now, trying to make sure his ship doesn't erupt into chaos, and his trusty First Officer Tazer is nowhere to be found, so Chris can cut him some slack.

It doesn't make this situation any easier.

"Corey, Corey, stop it."

Chris tries to be gentle when he presses at Corey's shoulders, attempting to push him away, far, far away, because Chris’ body is responding to Corey's touches and he knows he hasn't been infected. Corey's eyes are blown wide with lust, none of the chocolate brown of his irises even visible anymore, and Chris has to turn away because he cannot do this, Corey is _drugged_ , for god's sake.

It takes a few seconds of maneuvering and twisting Corey until Chris can tie his struggling, moaning shipmate to the bed, and when Chris backs away, cheeks flushed from more than exertion and hair sticking to his forehead, he hopes Corey doesn't remember this come morning.

\--

"Campoli!"

Chris almost flinches, not used to hearing anyone say his name in that tone of voice unless he's in trouble, although he knows he isn't.

"USS Blackhawk. Report at 1700 hours for orientation. Do not be late."

\--

"-worry, he'll be-"

"-few broken ribs, are you-"

"-just needs rest and some-"

"-was that even-"

"-knew I shouldn't have-"

"-couldn't have known about-"

"Chris?"

Chris has been floating in and out of consciousness for what feels like mere minutes but has probably been days, based on his previous experiences in medbays -- which have been much more than he would ever have liked, but then again, it's always been like that -- when he finally catches a voice that he can put a name to.

"C-Corey?"

His voice cracks on Corey's name, and his throat hurts, which only further solidifies his suspicion that it's been days since he's been fully conscious, if not weeks.

It almost hurts worse than his throat for Chris to open his eyes, because the light is bright enough to blind him, and he must make a noise or something because the next second there's a shadow over him, and he can peel his eyelids back fully.

Corey is standing over Chris, dark eyes rimmed with red that looks even brighter next to his paler than usual skin, and it takes Chris longer than he'd like to admit to realize that Corey's been crying.

"Corey, wha-?" Chris tries to ask, except he can’t because Corey makes a high, choked noise in his throat that sounds almost like a sob and dives down, and then Corey’s kissing Chris like it’s the last thing he’ll ever get to do.

Oh.

 _Oh._   



End file.
